The best part of my day

My head fell to my chest. I had a horrible day. My boss liked the proposal that I had spent weeks putting together, but he wanted me to make a sizable addition that was going to take a ton of time. My drive home was extended by an hour because of a heavy downpour and flash flooding that forced me to go a different route.

When I finally got home, I walked into the house tired and grumpy. Oh, I was eager to get home to my wife and baby daughter, who was only a few weeks old, but exhaustion was catching up to me.

Uh-oh, I’m home!

When I opened the door, I could tell right away that it had been a tough day on the home front too. The couch cushions were askew and there were toys scattered across the living room. The television was blaring loudly and the smoke detector in our kitchen was going off. (When we first moved into our house, the smoke detector would beep anytime we opened the oven. When you closed the over, the beeping would stop, but it would still give you a scare.)

My memory is from the early 90s, but it’s as fresh as if it happened yesterday. When my wife heard me come in the door, she came to greet me. I can still remember the big smiles she and my newborn daughter gave me. The medical experts and parenting books will tell you that babies don’t start smiling until 6 to 12 weeks of age, but I’ll go to my grave convinced she gave me a smile. I’m pretty sure she said “dada” too, but we’ll leave that story for another day.

You and me, kiddo!

After my wife and I ate dinner and the three of us spent some time together playing on the carpet, I gave my daughter a bath. She would wave her hands up and down, sending the water every which way. I swear more water ended up on the floor and walls than in our tub. Once the bath was over, I dried her and put on her pajamas. Next came our reading time. I sat in the small rocker and I read her The Going to Bed Book by Sandra Boynton.

The closing words still bounce around in my head:

“And down once more, but not so fast.
they’re on their way to bed at last.
The day is done. They say good night,
And somebody turns out the light.

The moon is high.
The sea is deep.
They rock and rock and rock to sleep.”

My daughter shook away a yawn. I was tired too, but I soaked everything in. I somehow knew that this time alone with her was my favorite part of my day and that I would one day miss it. I held her closely in my arms and quietly sang Skidamarink-A-Doo and Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore. When my throat felt sore from singing, I simply closed my eyes and rocked her gently in the rocking chair.

This is the life!

My work may have been frustrating. My drive annoying. My wife might have been frustrated with me for failing to put my glass and dinner plate in the dishwasher. The house might have looked like King Kong had taken over. We might have had a basket full of bills and the world could have been turned on its head for all I cared. I was right where I needed to be with my daughter.

I was right where I needed to be.

I write more about my daughter’s birth and how I tried to write about the experience and came up empty in my piece, Finding Inspiration, on the Heart of the Matter. In particular, I dive into how we need the perfect list of ingredients for creativity to leave its mark on us.

Check it out.